


all i wanted was to fly

by MAYH3M



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, Pre-Canon, Unreliable Narrator, or to be accurate Oblivious Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14222145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAYH3M/pseuds/MAYH3M
Summary: It has been years since they've spent any time in close proximity. And really, how bad can one dinner be.It’s Pipsq—Pippa. Pippa Pentangle walks towards them, smiling at Tabitha. Walks towards them completely unaware of… If Hecate transferred away right thisinstant, she thinks desperately, before banishing that thought. She clenches her fists, and turns back to Tabitha, who is telling Dimity, “... always attached at the hip, these two.”





	all i wanted was to fly

“Well, _that_ was a complete waste of time,” Hecate says, the moment she feels Dimity transferring beside her on the bench.

 

Dimity materializes mid eye-roll, and rests her elbows on the table before them. “The presentation on flying was very interesting, actually. Heard a few things I’ll want to try next term. I’m glad Ada encouraged us to attend.” Hecate says nothing, and Dimity decides to prod. “You didn’t think a single idea in all the discussions of this two day long conference was worth your consideration?”

 

“There is _nothing_ wrong with how we currently teach.” Hecate sniffs.

 

Dimity’s grin is knowing. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

 

Hecate ignores her to look around. Witches and wizards walk in as various panels of the evening conclude, to _mingle,_ flocking in various groups in the dinner hall at Amulet’s Academy. The hum of inane chatter steadily grows louder. She nods at a few familiar faces, and nudges Dimity when she sees Iris Dogwood and Valerie Fairchild among the novitiates. “I believe they graduated the year you joined Cackles?”

 

“Oh yeah! Look at them!” Dimity lights up. “Would’ve thought that Adrienne girl would be stuck to them, still.”

 

“She is traveling, otherwise I’m sure she would prefer to be.” Dimity shoots her an inquisitive look, so Hecate adds, “She is finishing up her thesis research in Istanbul. I received a postcard from her last week.”

 

“That was nice of her,” Dimity says.

 

Hecate weighs the ‘nice’ before replying. “I suppose. At any rate, I think I shall take my leave now. It has been a very long weekend.”

 

Dimity looks at her, and then behind her just as Hecate hears, _“Is that—?”_ and then the familiar voice moves closer, “Hecate Hardbroom, as I live and breathe!”

 

Hecate startles, then stands to bow low. “Miss Nettlevine! Well met.”

 

The woman takes her elbow and tuts, chiding. “Well met. And it’s Tabitha, dear child, I haven’t been your instructor for so many, many years.”

 

“Of course, Tabitha.” she repeats. She had forgotten how short Tabitha was, Hecate thinks, or perhaps it is a byproduct of childhood memories. But the impression of solidity the woman radiates is still just as familiar. Her hair is now all white, and in her trademark pale blue she resembles an iceberg more than ever.

 

“Stars! I haven’t seen this one since… it must have been ten, twelve years now? When…” her eyes suddenly sharpen, as does her smile. “I remember now. You presented your response to what I had written on the Medean Invocation. It was very well done!” She claps Hecate on her back.

 

Hecate flinches, clears her throat to say, “This is Dimity Drill, our flying instructor.” She takes a breath as they finish their introductions. 

 

Tabitha turns back to her then, “Oh, but I was just speaking with—” she turns to beckon, and the crowd parts, and—

 

_oh_

 

oh _no_

 

 _—_ it’s Pipsq— _Pippa._ Pippa Pentangle walks towards them, smiling at Tabitha. Walks towards them completely unaware of… If Hecate transferred away right this _instant_ , she thinks desperately, before banishing that thought. She clenches her fists and turns back to Tabitha, who is telling Dimity, “... always attached at the hip, these two.”

 

" _Really?"_ Dimity says, grinning, and Hecate ignores her.

 

Tabitha takes Pippa’s hand as soon as she can reach, “Look who I found, your other half!” and then all Hecate can hear is the blood rushing to her head. She feels overwarm and muffled as though under an incompetently cast quieting spell.

 

Pippa notices her and for a moment her eyes warm _,_ then she blinks, lifts her chin and says, “Hallo, Hecate, well met,” before she gestures, “This is Kaseem Wali.”

 

Dimity gasps, or perhaps Hecate herself does— there’s… he’s… the man is standing right before her, she realizes, as sound returns all around. He is much younger than Pippa, dark-skinned, with dreadlocks in a long ponytail down his back and flashing gold hoops in his ears that match his golden cloak. His white trousers have the unmistakable sheen of dragonskin, and his teeth gleam as he smiles down at Hecate.

 

“It’s an honour, Mistress Hardbroom,” he says, bowing and taking her hand gently to bring to his lips.

 

“Likewise,” she breathes, and wonders if she might reclaim her hand yet. Distantly she notices Tabitha chuckle and Pippa frown at him, and finds herself annoyed. It isn’t as though she could have any designs on the man, even were he not so… brightly attired. Like some kind of bird. She supposes he would suit Pippa Pentangle.

 

Dimity clears her throat beside her, and Hecate gathers herself around that familiar sound.

 

“This is my colleague—” she begins, only to be interrupted.

 

“Holy _fucking—_ you were Star of the Sky!” Mr Wali says, then claps his hands to his mouth. Dimity chuckles, and his suave smile turns boyish, delighted. “I watched you live when you flew at Ashfield, that last manoeuvre was bewitching!”

 

“And you’re, oh, thank you, but... aren’t _you_ in the running to be one this year?” Dimity asks. He nods, bouncing on his toes.

 

“ _That’s_ why I recognised you!” Pippa interjects. “Now I remember reading you had joined Cackle’s in the papers, you— actually, this is truly fortuitous if, I mean, did you have dinner plans for tonight, Miss Drill?”

 

“Has Pentangles fallen to _poaching_ teachers now?” Hecate scoffs, raising her eyebrows. “And right in front of me?”

 

Pippa laughs, and it is grating in its falseness. “Don’t worry, dear Hecate, I was merely hoping that Miss Drill would help me convince Kaseem to see the joys of teaching.”

 

“You’re _retiring_?” Dimity asks.

 

“Not just yet, but you know how it is with flying injuries.” He grimaces, and she nods, sympathetic. “But she’s right, you must join us for dinner!” Mr Wali takes Dimity’s hand. “You can convince me of whatever you like,” he says and _winks_ , and Hecate’s eyes jump to Pippa in alarm. Pippa looks uncomfortably amused.

 

Tabitha on the other hand just cackles. “ _Did_ the two of you have dinner plans? Because I have reservations at The Cauldron, it would be wonderful if you could come with us.”

 

“We couldn’t possibly... thank you, but we—” Hecate starts.

 

“Hecate did have that thing she had to take care of,” Dimity nods, “back at Cackles.”

 

“She works so hard, doesn’t she?” Pippa says, her voice saccharine. Hecate grits her teeth and looks away. She has an out, it would be foolish to rise to the bait.

 

“It can’t be that pressing, it’s not even term time,” Tabitha steps closer to Hecate. “Are you absolutely sure?”

 

Hecate says nothing. Pippa sighs, a brittle, barely audible thing, before saying, “It’s alright, Hecate, we don’t want to inconvenience you,” and Hecate remembers _Run away, it’s all you know how,_ remembers recriminations and taunts and tears. Hecate watches Tabitha look between the two of them, and she steels her spine to smile and say, “You’re right, of course, Tabitha. It’s nothing that won’t keep. I will join you.”

 

“It’s settled, then,” Tabitha says, and claps her hands before she transfers them all to The Cauldron.

 

Their reservation ensures they’re immediately transferred to a private alcove. The table there stretches out to fit them, cutlery soaring out to set before the new chairs that twirl into being. Low music begins as they take seats, and paper birds fly towards them and unfold to reveal the menus.

 

Dinner is not awful; Hecate might even go so far as to deem it _bearable_. The food is good enough to have earned the place its reputation, and the wine strong enough to drown the undercurrent of awkwardness. The table naturally splits into two separate conversations— Dimity, Pippa and Mr Wali talk of _sports_ while Tabitha monopolises Hecate’s attention. With the lines drawn that way, interaction across is surprisingly rare.

 

Pippa is...  This is the longest Hecate has spent time in her proximity since school, and she can’t help but glance her way now and again. She looks good. Steady. _Charming,_ as she tries to coax Mr Wali into visiting Pentangles to hold a workshop for the children. She still talks with her hands, uses her fork to illustrate her point. Hecate has to tear her eyes away, return to what Tabitha is saying.

 

“No, I’ve seen it done much quicker with rook feathers.”

 

“Quicker, perhaps, but I doubt its precision. And I cannot allow precision to be sacrificed at that cost, not when it—” Tabitha chuckles and Hecate stops mid sentence, eyes widening.

 

“Of course. I forgot that you work with littler children than I do. The _will_ of the witch, that’s— “

 

“You’re right. That is the difference.” She says, tipping her head.

 

It surprises her, how much she enjoys her conversation with Tabitha. Reading is well and good, but it has been some time since she has talked at length about potions theory with an adult. Longer still since it was someone who can challenge her. The teachers at Cackles are proficient enough at the day-to-day, and might even keep up when it comes to areas where their own interests lie— but this is _her_ specialisation, and she is keenly reminded of her enthusiasm for the field.

 

“Now, the conference I was telling you about.” Tabitha says. “It’s on Temporal Properties of Ingredient Gathering, they're holding it in late September. You’ve always found that interesting, if I remember correctly.”

 

“I don’t know if I could come up with something relevant, at such short notice...” Hecate says, only to be interrupted.

 

“I wasn’t asking so you would participate, just to show up! It was a treat to see you today, dear child. It would be a shame if another twelve years had to pass before it happened again,” Tabitha pats her hand. “Though I do believe they are accepting papers for a while yet, if you happen to find something.”

 

“ _Oh_. I…  I shall see if it can be arranged,” Hecate says, and finds that she actually means it. She had regularly participated in academic conferences as a new teacher. Had done so for as long as it took her to realise that it still involved a great deal of petty rivalries and politicking, and the same caliber of witches she had despised at university; the undeniable evidence that the Craft is in decline. But it has been quite some time, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing, she thinks, to dip her toes in, attend a few conferences; perhaps reconnect with the few witches she could tolerate. The ones on potions, that is. She wouldn’t attend another _pedagogical_ one willingly for the Great Wizard’s own broomstick.

 

“Good.” Tabitha says. “See that you do.” Hecate ducks her head and smiles at the familiar chastising tone, and nods. She glances at Pippa and catches her looking back, with a strangely appraising expression. Hecate holds her gaze, her own breath, and the moment, it— dessert menus flutter between them in a rush, then split to fly towards everyone, and small wisps of light follow for illumination. Hecate looks away, blinking rapidly.

 

Tabitha clears her throat, and her chair slides backwards. “I think this is my cue,” she says.

 

Hecate turns sharply, “What do you mean?”

 

“My coven flies out at first light tomorrow.” she sighs. “They get insufferable if anyone’s late, and I really need sleep. I’ve taken enough of your night already. I think I’ll leave you to catch up with Pippa.” She pats her back with a smile. Hecate watches in silence as she finishes her goodbyes to the rest of their group, hugs Pippa, and transfers away. Her chair disappears as well, the table shrinking so Pippa now sits right next to her.

 

Hecate meets her eyes and immediately Pippa says, “I’ll understand if you have to go, Hecate. After all you had that _thing_.” And why must she always _mock?_ Hecate thinks furiously

 

“That’s quite alright, but thank you,” Hecate says, and beckons her wineglass over. She takes a sip, then _smiles_ at Pippa.

 

“There’s nothing to prove here, Hecate, no obligation to remain,” Pippa says, taking a sip from her own glass. Hecate ignores her to look instead towards Dimity, who is leaning against Mr Wali. He whispers something to her, she _giggles_ , and by Gaia, _really?_ She rolls her eyes and hears a snort beside her. “See? I don’t believe this evening has any more productive socialising in it.” Pippa adds. “For us, anyway.”

 

“If that is the case then _you_ are free to leave.” Hecate raises her eyebrows and swirls the glass in her hand. She sips again, grateful for the warmth.

 

“What? That’s not even... _ugh!_ ” Pippa angrily flips a page of the dessert menu that hovers before her, and pushes it towards Hecate, her eyes glittering in challenge. “Well? You did stay for dessert.”

 

“Of course,” Hecate says, pushing it back with a smile. “But you should go ahead. I know your sweet tooth quite well.”

 

“No, no, I insist.” Pippa says, returning it.

 

“After you,” Hecate says, waving her fingers so the menu will remain steady before Pippa.

 

Pippa purses her lips, then her eyes light up. “I could just select _for_ you,” and it appears on the table. A ridiculous, tiered pink confection topped with whipped cream, cherries and… “Sprinkles!” Pippa declares, incredibly pleased with herself. Hecate could just _kiss_ the smirk right off her f— the thought startles her so much her glass jerks, spilling the wine. Little drops remain suspended in the air by the table’s enchantment, and wait for Hecate to wave them back into the glass. Hecate feels equally suspended.

 

Pippa’s eyes flash concern. “Are you alright?” Hecate stares at her in shock, heart in her throat. She thought herself over this, this childish infatuation, this— “Hecate?” Pippa presses. There was a reason she went away, has _stayed_ away from her all these years. She blinks but she can’t stop _looking_ at—

 

“Hiccup?” Pippa says— _and Hecate is thirteen, feeling Pippa cover her eyes and whisper “Guess who?”, and unfairly robbed of breath. Hecate is fifteen, staring at Pippa and wildly aching to be closer,_ closer _. Hecate is sixteen, seeing Pippa fall from her broomstick from laughing too hard and feeling her stomach swoop, it's_ —  “You don’t have to eat it.” Pippa says, voice very small, and it jolts her from her memories.

 

“No, that’s… it’s… fine. I’m fine.” Her voice breaks, and she closes her eyes. Clears her throat. “I’m quite alright.” Her thoughts clamour for her to get out, get out, get _out,_ her fingers itching to make it so.

  
She opens her eyes and immediately Pippa whispers, “What did I do?” Pippa’s hand is on the table right next to hers, as close as it can be without actually touching— Hecate breathes in shakily. Pippa links their little fingers together. “Just, _please—_ ”

 

“Nothing, nothing—”

 

“ _Hiccup._ ”

 

“It isn’t… _you_ didn’t— _”_

 

“But _something_ did.” Hecate shakes her head, eyes shutting against the tears that threaten.

 

"Pipsqueak," she whispers, and Pippa's hand tightens. She takes a deep breath.

 

“Miss Hardbroom?” Dimity says her voice low, and it’s as startling as a cold shower spell. She had _forgotten_ they were there, sitting on the same table. And it seems so had Pippa, who withdraws her hand hastily. She sniffs once before she puts on a smile to excuse herself, and then transfers away.

 

Hecate swears she is relieved when she transfers back to her home, alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alt title: hecate, or one part awkwardness one part anger two parts lesbian repression
> 
> Hey, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
